


How Very?

by WithAChainsaw



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heathers, Angst, Any suggestions are highly welcome, C O R N N U T S, Candy Store, Death sucks you all suck I hate you, Do I look like Mother Teresa, Drain-O, Gen, Heather McNamara is a bean, Heathers megafan, Help, I Tried, Lots of Cursing, Martha is also a bean and a cinnamon roll, Me Inside of Me, Shut up Heather, Tags Are Hard, and a cinnamon roll, freeze your brain, guinea pigs, jk please don’t, listen uP biOtCh, mood: Illegal Heathers, saltine crackers, someone help Ms. Fleming, sorry heather
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithAChainsaw/pseuds/WithAChainsaw
Summary: 10 years after the events of the original Heathers, a new slew of bullies, nerds, and geeks run rampant around Westerburg High. Ms. Fleming still teaches, and traces of the original Heathers linger. But when a strange occurrence begins at Westerburg, some familiar faces may reappear.





	1. Prologue-Road Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of an idea from a Tumblr post; once I figure out who's post I based this off of I'll list it.
> 
> This writing is all mine and edited by one of my friends.

Early morning of September 27th, 1999, Pauline Fleming was dressed in a wrinkled pink tweed skirt suit, her forehead pressed into her Mazda steering wheel. A sea of cars puked exhaust in front of her and a semi truck blocked all possible exits.

"Thanks for cutting me off, asshole!" she shouted, cranking her window down and banging her elbow violently on the side of the car in the process. "Learn how to drive!"

In return, the semi driver stuck a beefy middle finger out the window.

"You little-"

Fleming's insult was drowned out by more honking and yelling as the semi inched out of the spot it had been in for 5 whole minutes. The humidity in the air finally crept through the window and hit the inside of her car.

"Thank God," she muttered, hitting the gas and blasting past the semi, releasing another wave of furious complaints from the drivers. "Teaching barely pays off the gasoline payment." 

Pauline’s fists were clenched so tightly her old wedding ring dug into her skin. She had no idea why she wore it anymore; maybe it was because she couldn’t get the ring off of her swollen finger.

A short drive, messy parking job, and half a pack of cigarettes later, Ms. Fleming was inside the building and down the hall.

The slick tile was easily the biggest threat, as there were collisions of slipping students every day. Each hallway looked almost identical, red and white banners lining the plaster walls like papery crimson termites on rotten wood.

Hey-yo Westerburg! Tell me: what’s that sound? Here comes Westerburg, comin’ to put you in the ground!

Don’t do drugs, kids. Be cool; stay in school!

Pre-order yearbooks today!

Message from Coach Ripper: eat healthy, stay healthy! Now, what are we gonna do to the Razorbacks at Sunday’s game?

The posters fluttered slightly at the breeze from Ms. Fleming’s speed walk, angry at the sudden change in wind velocity. Her hair wasn’t as lucky; the brown wavy mess was in tangles, and it’d be difficult to handle the nest, even with a fine-tooth comb. Fleming took another turn towards her classroom right as the tardy bell began to ring.

“I hate Mondays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t figure out how to italicize on HTML for poster messages haha


	2. Purple, Orange, and Gold

A short, skinny kid with wide, brown eyes, blonde shaggy hair, and thick glasses approached me timidly. His much-too-large leather coat was an everyday attire staple. (There were rumors he ate saltine crackers out of his oversized pockets when he forgot his lunch money, but who believed that anyways?)

“Uh, hey Ben. What‘s up?”

Ben held a blank look in his eyes, so he was either zoning out again or had no idea what I was talking about. 

Just then, the tardy bell shrieked like a child refusing to leave a candy store, and it was obvious Ms. Fleming would rejoice at giving us detention slips.

“Just take it,” he said. He pulled a folded, crumpled, crumb-ridden napkin out of his jeans pocket, pressed it in my hand, and disappeared into the gaggle of students rushing to beat the final bell.

“Come on, shithead,” someone said over my shoulder. “Are you really hanging out with that weirdo? I heard he eats saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Disgusting.”

Sure enough, it was Mandy Duke, sashaying down the hall in purple stilettos at an alarmingly quick pace.

“Too much sodium, anyways.”

I stared at my cohort in shock. Didn’t she have any morals?

“You know we’re both getting in trouble, right?”

“Aww, poor Casey,” Mandy snickered. “The bell already rang. Anyways, everyone knows Teach hands out slips for the thrill of it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re ri-“

Rounding the corner sharply, a pink blur of car keys, unlit cigarettes, tired eyes, frizzy hair, and a whole lot of hippie collided with me. We both fell to the ground, and the blur’s possessions skittered in all directions across the badly polished linoleum tile floor.

Mandy stared at us for a moment and began to laugh. She shook so hard her baggy purple sweatshirt quivered, and the copious amounts of necklaces, bracelets, and rings she wore jingled like chimes.

“Well, would you look at that; hell freezing over. Out of all people, Fleming is tardy!”

........................………………………....................

“Sorry I’m late for class, kids. There was a lot of traffic this morning!”

The rows of students stared blankly back at their teacher. All of them looked deep in a dreaming trance, like they all slept overnight in the classroom and forgot to wake up in the morning.

Well, except Mandy White.

White always had a bubbly personality, starting from the moment she was born. She had long, curly blonde hair that bounced when she talked (which was about 2/3 of the time) and gray eyes that sparkled with curiosity. Her daily orange-themed attire could burn someone’s eyeballs if they looked too long, but her thin build and high cheekbones made up for it and were probably the only things that qualified her as a popular girl.

Currently, she was bouncing her leg repeatedly and reading the lesson overview on the blackboard and writing

Every. Single. Word. Down.

White would’ve be a weirdo by default without her looks; I was sure of that.

“Good morning, Mandy!”

“Huh?” all three of them said in unison. Duke went right to work chewing on her pencil, White was busy scrawling, and Cohen narrowed her eyes threateningly.

Cohen was called Queen for a reason. Every student worshipped her and feared her at the same time. Her eyes were brown, cold, and calculating, and a déjà vu inducing, gold-lipped sneer was almost as common as oxygen to Westerburg students. 

It was a mystery how she found all gold clothing to wear every day. It wasn’t like red after all; gold was rare and exotic and superior and oh-so-commanding. Cohen’s hair was equally gold, and fell in short waves.

No wonder everyone stared; she practically glittered.

“Ms. Fleming, can I use the bathroom?”

“Can you?”

“Can I?” Cohen challenged, another one of those sneers sweeping across her face. I tried hiding under the big stack of books on my desk. Even though she was technically part of my friend group, I stayed away from her as much as possible.

Ms. Fleming stuttered and flushed, confused. “Yes you may,” she blurted, struggling to regain her facade. She watched as the tall girl sauntered out of the classroom, confidence oozing from her golden pores.

“Is everyone awake now?”

“Yes,” my class grumbled, and all of us reluctantly opened our textbooks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried.


	3. Muffin, Louie, and the Napkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone is welcome to comment. Kudos and praise keeps me going, and constructive criticism helps me fix things.

I opened the door to find three adults sitting at my dining room table.

“Mom? Who’s that?”

All three adults turned. Mom looked pleasantly surprised, Dad was slightly uncomfortable, and the stranger had a big grin plastered on his face.

“This is Louie,” Mom said. “He’ll be staying with us for awhile.”

Louie glanced at me but didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t you sit down with us?”

I plopped my backpack down and made my way towards the table. Louie looked like a pretty sweet guy; he had pudgy cheeks, hazel eyes, light brown skin, and a button up shirt that was the only thing keeping his belly, currently peeking out between the seams, from the outside world. One of his legs was folded comfortably on top of the other, and his wrinkled beige khakis screamed casual.

Dad stared across the table at Louie. The creases at the edges of his eyes became more prominent as he blinked, and he lowered his head down back towards his pot roast.

“Louie, this is Casey.”

“Hello, Carrie,” he said in a thick Latino accent. I cringed internally, but politely smiled.

“It’s Casey,” I clarified, and sat down next to my father. “So, uh, why is he here?”

“He’s been having some trouble lately, so we’re letting him move into our house and stay in your room for the time being.”

“I’m your mom’s work friend,” Louie cut in with a gummy smile. “It’s so nice of you to let me stay here.”

“So what kind of troubles-“

“Financial issues,” Dad said. “He recently got laid off at work.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “Wait. Did you say he’s moving into my room?”

“Yes, honey. I thought you’d be okay with that.”

“Okay with that? Okay with it?”

The adults went silent, and Mom’s gaze could burn holes right through my eye sockets. I went on anyways.

“Some rando guy just bursts into our household and asks for a place to stay. And, you happen to volunteer my personal space so he can slobber all over my blankets and pillows? Spray pee all over my bathroom?”

“Casey. That’s enough.”

“You know what?” I fumed, directing my rage at Louie’s confused face. “Maybe I’ll lock myself in my room until this is all over!”

And, with that, I stomped up the carpeted stairs, slammed my door so hard it could cause a level 10 earthquake, and fumbled and huffed at my doorknob until it locked.

“Jesus Christ, would you believe this?” I said to Muffin.

She squeaked at me with annoyance and scrambled back into her castle.

“Wow, I can’t even hold a one-way conversation with my pet guinea pig.”

I fell on my bed and buried my head in my pillow. The pillow some middle-aged fat man was going to snore on.

I sat up and plunged my hands into my pockets, trying to grab my pack of gum. It always helped with stressful situations.

Instead, I pulled out a ratty napkin.

“Hey, Muffin, want to nibble this?”

She huffed at me as if to say, ‘you wish’.

I rolled my eyes and unfolded the napkin. Surprisingly, writing was scrawled all over the paper in ballpoint pen.

It read:

_Casey,_

_We haven’t talked much, but I thought you could help. I know I’m the weird kid with no friends, but I think something strange is going on._

_Today, when I walked into the boy’s bathroom, I was the only one there and everything was foggy, kind of like when you forget to turn on the fan when you take a shower._

_By the way, I actually take showers. I’m not that gross._

_Anyways, all the mirrors were misty and weird. And I got this chill, even though it was really warm and damp in there. And then, I went to the bathroom or whatnot, and then when I was done and went to wash my hands, there was writing on the mirror. It was drippy from the condensation and it looked fresh, but I couldn’t hear anyone else walking in when I was doing you-know-what._

_It said: THE POPULAR MUST END._

_That was it. I swear I’m not making it up. Could I sit at your table tomorrow so we could talk about it more?_

_~ Your...friend? Benny Boy_


End file.
